


Thicker Than Water

by ijustwanttodestroy



Series: i just thought it was funny fics [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: A little crack, A lot of cursing, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Babysitting, Bat Family, Bickering, Brotherly Bonding, Brothers, Crack, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Platonic Relationships, Road Trips, Vacation, You know what this is crack. This is a crack fic, anti interfamily shipping, discussion about sex, like with very shit characterization. i just thought it was funny, me reading my own fic: god im hilarious, seriously this is crack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-05-08 22:44:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14703987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ijustwanttodestroy/pseuds/ijustwanttodestroy
Summary: “You know what,” Jason says. “This is going to be a fucking disaster. Bruce can suck my dick.”“Okay,” Dick pauses. He has been driving for an hour, now. “Um, that’s weird, dude.”“Yeah, you know people ship us, right?” Tim says, typing away on his phone. “Like, there are tags about us on tumblr and everything. We are trending on fanfiction net.”“Oh yeah, Babs told me that,” Dick says, and frowns. “Why am I always the bottom?”In which the Bat Boys are having a weekend off at the Kent household in a babysitting gig.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is crack. i just thought it was funny. thats why the characterization is really crap. oops idc lets go

“You know what,” Jason says. “This is going to be a fucking disaster. Bruce can suck my dick.”

 

“Okay,” Dick pauses. He has been driving for an hour, now. “Um, that’s weird, dude.”

 

“Yeah, you know people ship us, right?” Tim says, typing away on his phone. “Like, there are tags about us on tumblr and everything. We are trending on fanfiction net.”

 

“Oh yeah, Babs told me that,” Dick says, and frowns. “Why am I _always_ the bottom?”

 

“There are even ship wars about us — “

 

“Wait,” Dick glances at Tim suspiciously, taking his eyes momentarily off the road. “How do you know that?”

 

“Fucking hell,” Jason says, rolling his eyes. “Back to the fucking point, please, _assholes_. Bruce can — “ Jason stops. “Kiss my ass.”

 

Both Tim and Dick make an identical sound of disgust. 

 

“Oof. Still weird.”

 

“Yeah, definitely.”

 

“But seriously, why am I always the bottom? No offense to bottoms, though.”

 

“That’s your concern?” Tim deadpans. 

 

“Fucking hell,” Jason says again. “This is why Cass is my favourite.”

 

“Cass is everyone’s favourite.”

 

“What? I thought that was me!” Dick protests. He looks at Tim from the rear-view. “Tim! Tim, I’m your favourite, right?”

 

Tim pauses typing. And then he says again, “Cass is everyone’s favourite.”

 

“ _What_ ,” Dick leans back to his seat with an _oomph_ , sounding like his world just crashed down in front of his eyes. “ _No_ ,” he whispers hollowly to the void. 

 

Jason rolls his eyes. He does that a lot whenever his family member is within twenty feet vicinity. His life would be easier without any of his family member within twenty feet vicinity. “Can we return to talking about what an ass Bruce is?” Jason says, because it’s his favorite topic and talking about it makes him happy and he _deserves_ to be happy, thank you very much. “Because he is an ass. He is a fucking dick — no offense to dicks — I can’t believe he is making us do this, but I can. Because he is a fucking dick,” Jason adds, “he is a _huge_ fucking dick. Very huge. No offense to —“

 

“Yes, we get it,” Dick says, and Tim says, “god, shut up.”

 

“I think you are overreacting,” Dick says. “It’s not going to be that bad.”

 

Jason and Tim roll their eyes simultaneously. “This is why no one likes you,” Jason says, which is the biggest lie ever. Dick points this out.

 

“That is the biggest lie ever,” Dick says. “Everybody loves me.”

 

“They just think you’re hot,” Jason accuses, which is like, probably true. Dick isn’t even offended at that, he just shrugs like, _yeah, duh_. Because, yeah, duh.

 

“Doesn’t that imply that _you_ think that _I’m_ ho — okay, nevermind," Dick grimaces. "That’s weird.”

 

“That _is_ weird,” Tim agrees. 

 

“I will never fuck you,” Jason says.

 

“Um,“ Dick says, a little uncomfortable. "Okay?"

 

“I will never fuck you, ever,” Jason says. “If you were the last man on earth — “

 

“Why are we discussing this —”

 

“ — and I have to choose between you, and Lex Luthor —“

 

“ _Lex Luthor_?” Dick echoes, aghast and shocked, while Tim laughs so hard he wheezes. “ _Really_ , Jason?! He literally _killed_ me —“

 

“— I’d shoot Lex Luthor and marry his corpse. And for the record, to me, you have no sex appeal whatsoever, Dick Grayson.”

 

“Okay, fine, I get it, you can stop now —“

 

“Nada. What-so-fucking-ever. Zero. Null. You are, to me, as attractive as those cookies Steph made last Halloween. I don’t know what the fuss is all about. I’d rather fuck Kite Man. I’d rather fuck Condiment King.”

 

Tim sounds like he is having a seizure, and Dick has never been so offended in his entire life. “ _Condiment King_?” he echoes, and Tim is having an asthma attack at this point. “ _Fuck you_ , Jason. I’m devastatingly handsome. My face, as many has stated, is the proof of god’s _existence_. I'll have you know that a painter in Italy has tried to _marry_ me solely because I have, and I quote, 'a body with the proportion of Michaelangelo's David'. And excuse _you_ , a lot of people would _kill_ for a chance to see this ass — “ Jason scoffs “— in action. Everyone knows that _I’m_ the prettiest one.”

 

“No, that’s Cass,” Tim says.

 

Dick pauses, and then he assents, “yeah, that’s Cass.”

 

“That’s Cass,” Jason agrees. “But I would never — god, I can’t even say it. Not with you, Tim, or C — I can’t even say it. Not with any of you. Never. I’d rather fuck — “

 

“Lex Luthor, yeah, we fucking get it,” Tim returns to his phone. 

 

“Look,” Dick says. “Can we not discuss about making love —“

 

“ _Making love_ ,” Jason repeats, disgusted. “Dick, you are an abomination.”

 

“Just say ‘fuck’,” Tim says. 

 

“Can we not discuss about fucking,” Dick says. “In front of Tim? He is like, thirteen.”

 

“I’m seventeen.”

 

“You’ll always be thirteen to me, Timbo.”

 

“Aw,” Tim says, sounding actually touched. Then he returns to typing.

 

“You’ll always be my baby brother,” Dick adds wistfully. “I cant believe you’re seventeen. God, I’m old.”

 

“Exactly. No one wants your crusty ass.”

 

“Excuse you!” Dick points a finger violently to Jason, keeping his other hand on the wheel. “I’m _twenty four_. I’m like, at my _peak hotness_ right now. _You_ , however, are _balding_ —“

 

“No!” Jason roars. “I am _not_!”

 

“Um,” Tim says. “Actually, Jason — “

 

“Don’t think I won’t shoot you, Tim!” 

 

“Tim agrees. Damian agrees. _Alfred_ agrees,” Dick says brutally. Jason gasps. “Go fuck yourself,” Dick seethes, snarling viciously. People who think Dick Grayson is an angel are obviously fools. Duped for life. “And by that, I mean, _go fuck_ _Lex Luthor_.”

 

“You take that _back_!”

 

“ _Never_!”

 

“Eyes on the road,” Tim screams, “eyes on the road, _eyes on the —“_

 

Dick swerves just seconds before he could hit a poor, unassuming cat crossing the road. “Oh my god, I almost killed a kitten. Which is _your_ fault, Baldy —“

 

“I swear to god I’m going to shoot you,” Jason pulls out his gun.

 

“Shoot me then, _Mr. Clean_ —“

 

Jason shoots. 

 

Dick lets out a string of curses in Romani. Tim doesn’t even blink.  

 

Dick, incredibly, still maintains his left hand on the wheel, driving relatively well for someone who just got shot with a rubber bullet. “Jason,” Dick says after he finishes calling Jason various unsavory names, “you won’t get away with this. Just you see, you piece of _Damian_.”

 

“What are you gonna do? Tell _daddy_ about it?”

 

“That’s it,” Tim says, eyes never leaving his phone screen the whole time. “Dick, pull over. Jason, switch seats with me.”

 

Dick pulls over.

 

“I’m not balding,” Jason declares, when he finally sits in the back. Dick scoffs aggressively. Tim, who is sitting shotgun, just hums noncommittally. “Uhuh.”

 

“I’m a virile twenty year old man. I am not balding.”

 

“Uhuh.”

 

“Listen, Tim. I am not balding. A lot of people can attest to that. I am very, _very_ sexually active —“

 

“No talking to Tim about sex!” Dick snaps. 

 

“Dick,” Tim says, as his phone pings several times. “I’m not a virgin.”

 

Dick hits the brakes. The car lurches forward violently to a stop. 

 

Tim almost drops his phone, and Jason barely maintains himself from falling from his seat, and he says, “what the fuck, Dick?” but Dick just looks at Tim with a face of absolute horror. “What,” Dick says. 

 

Tim shrugs. “I’m sleeping with Conner.”

 

“ _Conner_?”

 

Jason whistles. The superman clone kid. Not bad. “Well _done_ , Tim,” Jason says, and he means it.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“ _Conner_?” Dick says again. “Oh my god. You are sleeping with — oh my _god_. Why did no one tell me about this?”

 

“You almost crashed the car, maybe that’s why.”

 

“ _Conner_ ,” Dick chokes. “How _dare_ he, I. I don’t think I can — hold on. I’m just, I can’t —“ Dick fumbles to open the car door. “I need — I need a moment.”

 

Jason gets into the driver seat and starts the car. Dick is curling in on himself in the passanger seat. 

 

“I think you’re overreacting,” Tim says. 

 

“Will Conner be there?” Dick says, his voice muffled by the leather seat. He is faceplanting the seats.

 

“Yep,” Tim says. Which is a lie, Conner is on a mission, but Tim enjoys the devastated moan Dick makes nonetheless.

 

“Jason is right,” Dick whines. “This is bad. This is really, really bad. I can’t believe Bruce is making us do this.”

 

“I can,” Jason says. "He's a dick."

 

“Look, it’s not that bad. I do think all of us can use a vacation right now. I just wish Damian wouldn’t be in the picture.”

 

“You haven’t let go of your phone since we got in the car,” Jason points out. 

 

“I’m a millennial.” 

 

“You are doing Wayne Enterprise’s accountancy report, Tim,” Dick says from the back of the car. “Not scrolling on instagram.”

 

“Hey,” Tim says defensively, “this month’s chairboard meeting is crucial —“

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Jason takes the phone from Tim’s hand and throws it to the back. Dick catches it effortlessly and puts it in his pocket. 

 

“Fuck you guys,” Tim says.

 

“Alfred would be very disappointed in all three of us,” Dick sighs. “I don’t think we can swear at the Kents.”

 

“We can’t,” Tim confirms. “They have a swear jar.”

 

“Triggered,” Jason says. 

 

“We talked about this, Jason,” Tim, now deprived of his phone, has his hands folded in front of his chest. “You can’t say that about everything. It’s not how it works — “

 

“Triggered. You are triggering me right now. I’m having flashbacks. I’m feeling attacked. I died, you know.”

 

“We _all_ died,” Dick says. His voice nearly incoherent. He is still faceplanting the seats. 

 

“Mine was the most dramatic.”

 

“I literally died to save the world. Like, the entire world saw me die.”

 

“You were killed by Luthor, Dickie. Don’t feel too proud about it.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“No thanks.”

 

“I hate Bruce so much right now,” Tim says. "Why are  _we_ doing this anyway? We are the least qualified people to do this. Why not Steph. Steph is good with kids."

 

"Steph is in Hong Kong, remember? She is visiting Cass," Dick sighs wistfully. "I wish I were her."

 

“I can’t believe I have to sit here with the two of you. For hours. Why do the Kents live in the middle of nowhere? There hasn’t been a sign in miles,” Tim seethes bitterly. He is going to talk Bruce's ear off for this.

 

“We are not lost, are we?” Dick says. 

 

“Of course not,” Jason rolls his eyes for the umpteenth time. “I’m driving. I’m the most competent one here.”

 

After several more miles of trees, cows, and grass, they finally find a small diner and asks the kindly old woman manning it for direction. They get in the car and turn the opposite way. 

 

“Jason, you are a fucking idiot,” Tim says. He is driving.

 

“Shut up,” Jason barks back from the passenger seat. “If anything, _Dickie_ is the fucking idiot here —“

 

“ _Me_?”

 

“We are here,” Tim announces loudly, because if he hears any of his brothers say another word, he’ll shoot them himself. He pulls the car over in front of a small, pretty house. There are bushes of daffodils surrounding it, complete with a picket fence. Nothing fancy, but very charming; it looks homely. Warm.

 

“Great,” Jason scoffs. “Now we are in the middle of nowhere, babysitting a literal demon child _and_ an alien.”

 

“I lied,” Tim tells Dick as they get out of the car. “Conner isn’t here. He is off world with Starfire.”

 

“Thank _Jesus_.”

 

The farm _is_ in the middle of nowhere. The sky is blue and endless, and seemingly _too_ bright — a stark contrast of scenery from Gotham and Blüdhaven. The sun is bright. It’s beautiful and quaint, serene, and for a short moment, this doesn’t seem like a too bad of an idea after all. The air is clean and fresh, and they can smell farm animals and daffodils, grass and — and something burning. 

 

There is a loud crash from the house, followed by a familiar yell of arabic curses. Followed by another yell, this time from a higher pitched voice, sounding suspiciously like “ _Damian_!” and Dick sighs.

 

A short moment indeed.

 

Jason declares, “I’m gonna find a tree to piss on. You take care whatever the hell that is.”

 

“I’m coming with, drank too much coffee,” Tim mutters, and leaves with Jason in an unabashedly fast pace, leaving Dick standing in front of the car. 

 

More loud crashes resounding from the house.

 

Dick sighs again.

 

This is so going to be a disaster.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Alright,” Dick pinches the bridge of his nose, a gesture that is Very Bruce that Jason and Tim exchange a Look on the couch. “I need you two to _apologize_ to each other.”

 

Damian puts his hands on his hips, chin jutting up, nose haughtily raised. “No,” he says.

 

The room is — Dick sighs — in shambles. Dick is not looking forward to explaining to Lois about the broken mug, flute, tennis racket, and copious pizza boxes on the floor.

 

“Yes,” Dick says.

 

“No. And you can’t make me, Grayson.”

 

“Yes I can.”

 

“No you cannot.”

 

“You’re right, I can’t,” Dick assents, sighing, puts both his hands up in complacency. “Only _you_ can make yourself do so. It is your choice. Not mine to make.”

 

Damian squints his eyes, glaring suspiciously at Dick. “I will not fall prey to your feeble attempt at decision manipulation by giving me a false sense of control.”

 

Dick rolls his eyes. “I’m not trying to manipulate you,” he says, which is met by three identical scoffs, _which_ he profusely ignores. “Look, _Jon_ is ready to apologize to you. Right, Jon?”

 

“I guess,” says Jon, who is not.

 

“That’s _very_ mature of you, Jon,” Dick says sweetly. Damian’s veins twitch. Jason passes Tim the popcorn.

 

“I know what you are doing, Grayson,” Damian grits out. “Just for your information. It’s. Not. _Working_.”

 

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Dick replies succinctly.

 

“I see no reason for me to _apologize_ ,” Damian says, keeping his hands on his hips, stance fully offensive as he refuses to show any sign of crumbling resolve. “Jonathan being an insufferable child is no oversight of mine — “

 

“I’m _ten_ , you jerk!” Jon snaps from his side of the couch with Dick. Damian, who is on the opposite side with his other brothers, rolls his eyes as dramatically as possible.

 

“Oh, really, I didn’t _know_ that. I thought you were _five_!”

 

“How many Jolly Times did you bring,” Tim says to Jason, hand scrambling in the bag of rapidly decreasing popcorn.

 

“Eight.” Jason replies, slightly muffled by the amount of popcorn in his mouth. “Xtra Butter.”

 

Tim nods in approval, sips his coffee. “Nice.”

 

Keep the smile, Grayson. “Damian — okay, why don’t we just get to the apology.” Both Damian and Jon glare at each other, and then at Dick. It actually feels like being glared at a Tiny Bruce and a Tiny Clark, which is kind of endearing, if only he isn’t having the biggest headache right now. “Alright? Let’s get this over with. Jon?”

 

Jon huffs. “Why me? _He_ started it!”

 

“God, you’re such a _child_!”

 

“I _am_ a child! _You_ are a child!”

 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Dick says, but it is met with no dignified response. Both Damian and Jon leap up from their seats, glaring at each other — a very adorable sight, if not for the fact that both children are perfectly capable of murdering an army of men in less than two minutes — Jon’s cheeks are are red with an angry blush, and Damian has a very permanent scowl etched on his face.

 

“This is kind of cute, actually,” Jason says, and is met by a look full of disbelief from Tim.

 

“I am. Not. On. Your. _Level,_ ” Damian says, accentuating each word with a jab of a finger to Jon’s chest — to which Jon does not budge in the slightest, but it does give a flair of soap opera drama to the scene. Jason nods in approval.

 

“Very theatrical,” Jason says. “Not bad.”

 

Jon rolls his eyes, this time, a move that Dick is pretty sure he adopted from Damian. “With the growth rate you are going,” he says. “Of course you aren’t!”

 

Tim spits out his coffee and chokes, while Jason whoops and hollers in vigor. Dick doesn’t know if he should laugh or cry or call Bruce and ask him to take them all home.

 

“You better take that _back,”_ Damian says, the both of them so close to each other, their noses are inches apart. Dick watches a little despairingly.

 

“Or what?” Jonathan faces the scowl on Damian’s face with admirable courage. That look on Damian has sent criminals running with piss in their pants. “You’ll laser-vision me to _death_?”

 

“Ooooooh,” Jason yells. He has his phone out. Tim is laughing without a sound, slapping his knee like a dying octopus. Dick should put a stop on this before Jason starts yodeling.

 

“Guys,” he starts, considering to put his hand on Jon’s shoulder, but reconsidering because the aforementioned boy is literally an invincible alien. “Come on — “

 

“Watch it, Kent,” Damian snarls. “I’ll kick your butt so hard you’ll cry for _daddy_.”

 

“ _So_?” their chests bump. “My daddy is going to kick _your_ daddy’s butt.”

 

“My father _has_ kicked _your_ daddy’s butt _many times,_ you incorrigible imbicile!”

 

“ _So_? My daddy is _cooler_ than yours!”

 

Damian laughs. It is vicious and cruel and very entirely villain-like. “Your daddy is wearing _red panties_!”

 

Dick looks to his brothers for help, but both Tim and Jason now have their phones out, both standing spectators due to the elation of tension in the room. Dick is absolutely not surprised.

 

“Well, _your_ dad dresses up as an _animal_. Not even a _cool_ animal — a _bat_! _Who_ thinks bats are _cool_? All they do is poop everywhere!”

 

“Bats are _adequately_ cool. I’ll have you know, the number of sales for Batman merchandise in the past decade —“

 

Jon throws his arms to the air petulantly. “And I. Don’t. _Care_! Bats are _lame_. And speaking about _panties_ , Robin used to wear green, scaly, _sparkly_ panties — “

 

“Hey!” that’s where Dick puts his foot down, before Damian gets a faceful of lasers and Jon gets a faceful of kryptonite. “Alright, enough,” he says, using his most Dad Voice. “And those panties were fashionable at the time, okay? I said — Damian, put your sword down — okay, _stop.”_

 

Both children shut their mouth, hands folded, glaring at each other and then at Dick.

 

“Boo,” Jason says, saving the video to his phone. “Party pooper.”

 

“Boo,” Tim says in support, his phone beeping receiving an airdrop of the aforementioned video.

 

Dick shoots his very unhelpful brothers a glare. He sighs. “Listen, you guys. It doesn’t matter who broke it, alright? Lois — Jon’s mom will kick _all_ of our butts if we don’t clean the mess up. Okay?”

 

Both Damian and Jon look at him and then away from each other, offering no objection.

 

“And we can’t do that if we don’t cooperate with _each other._ So what if you two apologize to each other like adults, and then we go and take care of the problem _together_?”

 

“That’s right,” Tim says, full of glee, phone recording and ready in hand. “Come on, go hold hands and be _nice._ ” Damian grips his sword like he is going to throw it at Tim’s face.

 

“Do what Mother Grayson says,” Jason is behind the couch, ready to duck in case Damian actually throws the sword to his face. “ _Kumbaya_ , motherfrickers,” Jason says, and both of them giggle like mad men.

 

“Both of you,” Dick points at the door. “Out.”

 

“Boo.”

 

“Boo.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

**WELCOME**

 

**Hey there!  Are you ready to talk to your kids about the birds & the bees?  No?  Well don't worry, we are here to help!  We want to give you the tools and confidence you need to make a plan, to know how to answer those tough questions when your child asks them. The world has changed dramatically - the way we talk to our kids about sex should too.  You can do this!**

 

Dick stares at the screen with an utmost look of concentration. He is slouching unceremoniously on the couch, looking up to his phone.

 

“Dick,” Jason says from behind his shoulders. “Dick, what the fuck.”

 

“What?” Dick’s voice is laced with fabricated innocence that would probably fool anyone who does not know Dick Grayson. “Also, swear jar.”

 

Jason rolls his eyes, and flicks a coin to the open mason jar from across the room. It lands inside perfectly with a clink. “Yeet,” Jason says.

 

“At this point, the Kents are going to be loaded,” Dick says wistfully, swiping on his phone screen.

 

“Dick, seriously, what the fuck,” Jason says, huffing and jumping to the sofa across, legs strewn carelessly. Dick glances at his askew feet momentarily in distaste. “Alfred would chew you out for that.”

 

“Dick, you do know you don’t need to give Tim a _sex talk,_ right?”

 

“Give me a _what_ , now?”

 

 _“_ Hi, Tim!” Dick shoots up, sitting straight on the couch.

 

“Also, I told you to stop saying yeet, Jason,” Tim gives Jason a heated, disgusted glare. “I _heard_ you.”

 

Jason kisses his middle finger and flips it to Tim. “Yeet.”

 

Tim flips him one of his back.

 

“Swear jar,” Dick says cheerfully.

 

“Man, fuck this,” Jason says, pulling out a fresh twenty and put it in the jar. “What?”

 

“That is,” Tim says in disdain, “a _poor_ waste of money.”

 

“I’m a billionaire’s son,” says Jason, admitting his adoption paper only when it comes to this one aspect of Bruce. “That was a magnificent _investment_ , if I do say so myself.”

 

“Bruce opened a bank account for you, didn’t he,” Dick says.

 

“Eyup,” Jason flicks another coin. “See Timbo, this one’s for you. Yeet.”

 

“You repulse me,” Tim tells him with utmost sincerity.

 

“So, Tim,” Dick smiles sweetly, one of Dick’s smiles that have indubitably taken hearts and broken them all at once. Tim does not trust it. Dick pats the empty space beside him. “Come sit with your brother, why don’t you?”

 

“He wants to give you a sex talk,” Jason pulls out a pack of cigarette from the pocket of his jeans.

 

“What?” Tim says, the same time Dick says, “Jay, you can’t _smoke_ here.”

 

“I’m not going to, asshole, there are _children_ here,” Jason says, sounding very offended. From the same pocket, he pulls out a lollipop. He puts the pack back and goes to unwrap the wrappers. “I might’ve killed a crime lord or two, but I’m not a _monster_.”

 

“Right,” Dick says, the same time Tim says “nine crime lords,” as Jason plops it into his mouth.

 

“Dick,” Tim turns to the eldest, bewildered and absolutely exasperated, “you can’t give me a sex talk. I’ve _had_ the _sex_.”

 

“I wasn’t going to give you a sex talk,” Dick says, which is a lie, and Tim knows it.

 

“That was a lie, and you know it,” Jason tells Tim.

 

“I can’t believe this.” Tim throws his hands to the air. “I had sex! Big _freakin’_ deal!”

 

“Look, I know that you’re an adult now.” Dick pauses. “A barely adult. A late teenager. An almost late teenager. Scratch that, you are a teenager. A hormonal teenager blinded by lust. You are a child.”

 

“I don’t know if this is funny or just plain fuckin’ sad,” Jason states. 

 

“Jason,” Dick says, glancing at him in askance. “What are you doing?” Jason is screwing around in the kitchen.

 

“I’m making a toast.”

 

“It’s three in the morning.”

 

“So? I want some PB&J. I’m a growing boy. Why are you interferring with my life?” Jason snaps. “Screw this thing. This toaster,” Jason announces, pointing at the said offending toaster. “Is homophobic."

 

“Jason, we talked about this,” Tim says, mildly annoyed. “You can’t say that about _everything_. It’s not how it works!”

 

“Well, it inconveniences me, and _I’m_ gay. It’s homophobic.”

 

“You repulse me,” Tim says again.

 

“Now _you’re_  being homophobic,” Jason accuses, hitting the toaster on the side in faint hope to make it less homophobic.

 

“None of us are straight, Jason,” Dick sighs. “We are _all_ a little gay.”

 

“Speak for yourself. I’m a lot of gay.”

 

“Anyway,” Dick says. “Back to the point. Where was I?”

 

“Hormonal teenagers,” Jason says helpfully.

 

“Right. Listen. A hormonal, raging teenager going through puberty cannot be trusted,” Dick continues insistently while Tim stares with disbelief. “You can’t trust your own brain. Trust me, I know,” Dick shakes his head solemnly. “I’ve _been_ there.”

 

“Please,” Jason says mournfully through his lollipop. “Spare us the abhorrent tales of your sexual escapades.”

 

“This is ridiculous,” Tim tells Dick, sounding both horrified and incredulous. “And weird. I don’t want to hear you talk about sex. This is so weird.”

 

“It’s not weird,” Dick says. “Okay, maybe a little, but listen —“

 

“A little?”

 

“— I know that you are ... an adult. A teenager. Teenager-adult, whatever,” Dick huffs. “It’s just. You were — I didn’t — you’re just,” Dick gestures haphazardly at Tim. “You’re _having sex_ ,” Dick finishes his rambling lamely. “What the hell,” Dick says, and flips a coin to the jar.

 

“Dick! I’m _seventeen._ Do you not trust me with this?” Tim puts his hands on his hips, his pose imposing.

 

“No, no,” Dick protests. “You’re a smart kid, I _know_ that,” Dick runs a hand through his hair in this helpless way. “It’s just, you’re already so _grown up,_ ” Dick says, looking like a big, sad puppy on the couch in a superman pajamas. “You were so small. Now you’re going to be taller than me.”

 

“Everyone’s taller than you,” Jason says.

 

“True, but you know what I mean.”

 

Tim does. Kind of. “I know,” Tim sighs, putting a hand on Dick’s back, moving to sit beside him. “Look, you trust me to be responsible with this, right?”

 

Dick looks up at him. “I trust you with my life, Tim.”

 

The corner of Tim’s lips struggles to hold back a smile at that. “Then you got nothing to worry about.”

 

Dick sighs. “You’re right. I’m ... overreacting.”

 

From across the room, Jason mouths _nice_ with two thumbs up. Tim responds with an inconspicuous nod.

 

“I just want to make sure you know the importance of using protection,” Dick says.

 

“What the fuck, Dick,” Tim says.

 

“Jesus Christ,” Jason throws his hands to the air. “Dick, let him have sex. Let him have all the sex he wants. Consensually.”

 

“Look, okay, preparation is key,” Dick continues, and Tim groans in dismay. “the number of times my life has been _saved_ because of _lube_ is inordinate. This one time, Kory and I —“

 

“Oh, God Almighty,” Jason says.

 

“What are you all doing awake at this hour.”

 

Damian raises a suspicious eyebrow at them from the stairs. Beside him, Jon is looking over his shoulder curiously. They’re both in pajamas, which makes for a pretty adorable sight.

 

“Nothing,” Dick says. “Hi, Jon! Why are you guys still awake?”

 

Jon and Damian exchange a discreet look at each other — the kind that best friends have when they communicate something without words, and turn back to the audience below the stairs.

 

“No reason,” Jon says, the same time as Damian says, "none of your concern," to which Tim squints his eyes to. Damian responds with a squinty glare of his own, holding the stare while he descends the stairs.

 

“Hey,” Jon says, ignoring his friend’s ongoing silent battle with his brother. “What’s a lube?”

 

Jason chokes on his lollipop. Tim chokes on empty air.

 

“Lube is a shortened version for the word lubricant,” Damian tells his friend very helpfully, oblivious to the expression of utter horror dawning on his brothers’ faces. “It is commonly used for —“

 

“I think it’s _time_ for _bed_!” Dick exclaims a little hysterically, jumping to stand up off the couch. “Wow, I feel pretty worn out. What about you guys? I _really_ want to be in bed, right now. I think it’s the country air, am I right? It’s getting pretty late, you _guys_!” Dick looks to his watch. “It’s, uh ... three. In the morning. Perfect bed time!”

 

"Oh my God," Tim says.

 

"Hey," Jason clears his throat. "You boys want some PB&Js?"

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://birds-bees.com

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr if you want to tell me anything](https://i-just-want-to-destroy.tumblr.com)   
> 


End file.
